Catching Feelings
by divine one
Summary: Santana and Finn are fooling around. Or are they? Santana/Finn


Catching Feelings  
>Devylish<br>**Words** 2183  
><strong>fandom<strong> Glee  
><strong>pairing<strong> santana/finn (aka sinn or finntana)  
><strong>rating<strong> R (sexual situations and definite language... Santana – such a potty mouth!)  
><strong>disclaimer<strong> on my profile.  
><strong>AN<strong> this is my first fic for Glee, be gentle with me.

* * *

><p>Santana Lopez wasn't exactly certain what had gotten in to Finn Hudson, but whatever it was, she was going to knock it the fuck out of him.<p>

The two of them had been fooling around during the past few months. Nothing serious, just the occasional (okay, it was more than occasional, it was all the fucking time) make-out sessions; second base kind of stuff... They would have been 'all the way', home-runs, but Finn was a fucking idiot. An idiot with a conscience or some other shit that made fucking a girl a big deal to him.

Every time they got close to the... 'goal', Hudson got cold feet or morals or some shit. Which was really, really just stupid seeing as how she'd taken his V-card like two years ago. Been there done that; let's do it again please!

Finn argued that he was a little nervous about doing it with her again cuz, well their first time together had been so fucked. (The boy was hung like a horse, which was good, but really, the old adage 'it's not the size of the boat, it's the motion of the ocean' definitely holds some truth; and two years ago? Yeah... Finn hadn't known what he was doing with anything).

But that was two years ago. And she knew for a fact he'd put some notches on his bed post since then... Quinn and Rachel had both taken a ride on the Finn pony express. He _had_ to have gotten better.

And realistically if their macking was any indication of how his skills had changed... Shit, the boy could make her weak in the knees with the brush of his thumb along her neck these days.. She could only imagine how good the brush of his thumb against other parts of her body would be.

Of course, the problem was, she WAS just imagining how good it would be. Stupid Hudson. She responded to his 'I, want to do this right, for you' statements with: "Practice make's perfect Finnocence. Practice with me... I'll make sure you get it right." She normally found herself saying this while she lay beneath him, his giant hands kneading her breasts, his lips at her neck... right after he'd said 'we need to stop... I want to do this right... for you."

Stupid, stupid, fucking, giant, too-cute-for-his-own-good idiot.

When he wasn't offering the excuse of not wanting to embarrass himself (i.e. wanting to get it right for her), he cock blocked himself with the argument that he didn't want to use her.

What the fuck! She barely bit back the moan of 'fucking use me!' whenever he said this. I mean, come on! A girl's in your bed, wearing only a bra (he liked the lace ones) and a mini skirt (he definitely liked her legs), and 'you don't want to use her?'

Yeah, she barely held back from verbalizing that she'd let him cuff her to the bed if it meant he'd put his cock in her. Instead, she normally grumbled as she climbed out of the bed, the car, the chair they were fooling around in: "Well until you get less stupid and fucking realize you have a fucking, willing, hot, 'ME' lying under you, I'll be at my place with B.O.B."

The whole situation was driving her fucking crazy. They had coffee's together. They had lunches together. Went to movies together. Ate at Breadstix together. Played video games (which she kicked his ass at) together. And they always ended up half undressed, panting and horny because HE put the breaks on their shit.

She hadn't spent this much time with her hand between her own legs since she was like thirteen.

And then, last Tuesday, after a day spent in the Lopez pool, she found herself straddling his hips as he lay in a lounge chair - her wearing her sexiest, skimpiest, white bikini; him in his dark blue board shorts – and he went absolutely loco.

Finn's hands were wrapped around her wrists, her hands were on his chest, and she was grinding slowly against his hips – and suddenly he sat up, effectively stopping them from getting off through their suits.

"Damnit Hudson!"

He grimaced, less from her yelling, and more from the loss of friction, and staring her in the eyes, he stated, "I want to be your guy San. I want us to be boyfriend and girlfriend. We spend all our time together. We do boyfriend girlfriend stuff like dinner and movies and... and stuff and, I want us to be an 'US'." He paused just long enough to tug her closer. "If there was an US, we could... _I_ could... I mean, we could 'you know'." He raised his brow and grinned shyly/seductively [and who knew those two things could happen simultaneously?]. "We could do _it_ then, and I'd be fine with it."

She'd stared at him for a full five seconds before she barked out a loud, "OMG! When the hell did you get a pussy? What kind of _guy_ won't fuck a girl until 'after' she agrees to have a fucking... a fucking..." she shuddered slightly, "relationship?" She tugged her hands from his grip and clambered off of his long frame. Stomping off towards her house, she yelled over her shoulder. "Talk to me again when you lose the vagina and grow some balls."

And now it was a week later, and Finn had been keeping his distance and Santana missed him. She told herself she was horny as hell, and his touch was what she missed.

Well enough was enough! She was going to hunt Finn down, knock some sense into his empty brain and then fuck the sense back out of him.

Her desire to get Finn back in line with the plan explained why she was sitting in the bleachers at McKinley's football field on a Saturday afternoon. Although none of the Gleekster gang were officially highschoolers anymore, the boys: Matt, Mike, Puck, Finn, and a few others had taken to playing tag football on the weekends. She'd been to a few of the amateur games, not that she really cared about football, but, well, come on, it was boys. Boys in shirts/out of shirts, in shorts, sweating. She may not care about football, but she wasn't dumb.

She'd picked a seat a few levels away from Rachel... close enough to not seem rude, but far enough away for her to block out most of the imp's constant twitter. And can she just say that the whole 'Puck loves Rachel' situation still squicks her the fuck out? She got that different strokes were for different folks, but fucking come on! Rachel 'Miss Prudy Perfect' Berry and Noah 'Puck Could Outfuck a Rabbit' Puckerman? It was almost as strange as the idea of... well Finn and her.

Puck and Finn were playing on the same team today which meant, of course, that they won. Rachel was off of the bleachers and in Puck's arms practically before the ball landed in the endzone. Santana leaned back against the bleachers and simply watched Finn laughing with some guys. He bumped fists with Puck then turned towards the bleachers.

Towards her.

He ran up the seats and settled next to her. Too close for it to be just friendly. Too far away for her to be truly happy.

Santana, girl, get a grip. You're in charge here. You just need to remind Finn of that fact. She opened her mouth, but before she could speak –

"you're probably the stubbornest person I've ever met." He lifted a finger and traced a pattern along her bare leg.

Fuck! He wasn't suppose to touch her. He was suppose to stutter, and blush, and let her convince him that a Finn/Santana fuckfest didn't mean they had to be in a relationship.

But he wasn't stuttering, he wasn't blushing. And he _was_ touching her. More or less in public.

While we'd hung out throughout the summer, it hadn't really ever been around our friends.

And here he was, his finger lighting along my thigh, with all of our friends more or less around us.

"You're getting pretty handsy there for a guy who doesn't want to fuck me."

"I never said I didn't want to fu – sleep with you." Finn leaned in to Santana, his lips brushing against her ear. "I fall asleep every night, dreaming of you, naked, wrapped around me, calling... screaming out my name."

She held back the shiver that slid down her spine. The shiver that settled into a molten puddle of warmth in the middle of her belly. It wasn't fucking fair that he could make her feel this way.

"I know you like me San." He kissed the edge of her jaw. "I know you like me."

She breathed out a shaky, "I don't like anyone."

He reasserted - his lips soft against her face her neck, "You like me."

Fine if he wants everyone and their mother to know that we're hooking up, I can do that. That doesn't mean I like him or anything. It doesn't mean we're exclusive (she ignored the whisper in her head that tried to remind her she hadn't slept with anyone since she'd started messing with Finn). She sat up and moving quickly, she straddled Finn as he sat on the bleachers.

"Just because people see us doing this... being together," his hands had dropped to her hips, and her chest was pressed against his. And this time she was the one doing the kissing, the teasing. Her mouth moving softly along his Adam's apple. "Just because I – we – let them know we're hooking up." She shifted against him and as he groaned, she gave a sharp smile. "It doesn't change a fucking thing. It still doesn't mean anything."

She let her eyes drift closed as she leaned forward to press her lips against his...

And he fucking stopped her again.

His hands moved to her biceps and he held her still, her face inches away from his.

Her eyes shot open, "What the fuck Hudson!"

He peered at her, a confused look on his face. (Of course, 'confused' and Finn were common companions). He suddenly tilted his head to the side, a look of clarity settling on his face.

"San, that's just it, I want it to mean something." He released one of her arms and lifted his hand to her face. "I don't want them to think we're," he used the word this time "fucking. I want them to think – to know – you're mine." he gave his little smirk, the one that shouldn't make her weak in the knees, yet always... always had. "And I want them to know I'm yours. I want them all to know we're boyfriend and girlfriend. Lovers. And whatever else that leads to."

She tried not to lean in to his touch. She tried not to weaken.

She tried to make the beautiful idiot in front of her think. "Why? Why the fuck isn't what we have - what we almost have - enough?"

Finn shrugged, "why settle for less when we could have more?" He ran his thumb along her cheek. "You deserve to be more than a one night stand. Or a fling."

"Dork." She couldn't seem to tear her eyes from his. Brown and gold and so honest. So good. So... not what she deserved. She was a bitch. She knew she was a bitch.

How could he NOT care that he was trying to have a relationship with a bitch.

"I may be a dork, but you still like me."

"I'll eat you alive and spit you out for fun."

He turned his head to the side again, "Do you mean, like uhh, in sex, or something, or do you mean uhh... like metaphorically or something?"

Santana gave a snort of laughter. Finn and her? Doomed. She should push away form him now. Make a clean break. Maybe even leave for college early.

Too bad she never did what she 'should' do.

"One week. I'll give you one week to be my boyfriend. And when everything falls to shit, you... you go on Facebook and announce to the world that I'm always right."

"And if... uh, when... I make it past a week as your boyfriend?"

Santana gave a naughty grin and leaned back in towards Finn, "I'll go on Facebook and tell the world what an amazing," she shifted against him again "well-hung, talented, lover you are."

"Yeah?"

She did something decidedly girly and girlfriend-ish and rubbed her nose against his. "Yeah."

Finn grinned, maybe the biggest grin Santana had ever seen on his face. "I guess, I'll have to do something to earn that description, huh?"

Santana grinned back, "Fuck yeah."


End file.
